Jean's eyes were now resting upon the object of the woman's excitement, and she, too, was filled with astonishment. She stared at the trout and the arrow, and then looked wonderingly at her father.
"How do you suppose they got there, daddy?" she questioned.
"It was de debbil, I tell ye," Mammy insisted before the Colonel could speak. "He's been in dis place, an' dat's his mark."
"He must be very friendly, then," the Colonel replied. "I don't mind how often he comes if he leaves fish, and they are trout at that."
By this time the entire camp had been aroused, and men, women and children were gathered near, gazing with wide-eyed astonishment upon the big pine. There were numerous conjectures as to the meaning of the arrow and the fish. Most, however, were of the opinion that it was the work of Indians, and that no doubt they were lurking near. Fearful glances were cast along the silent forest aisles, and vivid imagination pictured dusky warriors ready to swoop down with terrible war-whoops. But Old Mammy scoffed at this idea.
"It's de debbil, I tell ye, an' no Injun," she declared. "Dat's his mark, an' he's plannin' some mischief. It's a warnin' to us all. We nebber should hab come to sich a place as dis."
The Colonel listened with considerable amusement to what was being said. At length, however, he stepped forward and laid his right hand upon the fish. With a cry of fear Mammy sprang to his side.
"Doan touch 'em! Doan touch 'em!" she shrieked. "It ain't safe! It ain't safe!"
"Why, Mammy, what do you mean?" the Colonel asked.
"Go 'way, go 'way," the excited woman pleaded. "Dey belong to de debbil, an' he'll bewitch ye. Doan touch 'em."